Opposites Attract
by by xandria
Summary: Chase isn't looking for love. But sometimes the last thing you're looking for, turns out to be what you needed all along. Chase/OFC - random character study for Chase s.7: comments appreciated! thx
1. Chapter 1

**HOUSE MD****: Opposites**

**Tagline: **Sometimes the last thing you're looking for, is the one thing you really need. Chase/OFC. (not a deathfic – at least no plans for such as yet, we'll see how it shapes up)

**Disclaimer: ** I own nothing that is not mine. I'm just borrowing for a bit …

**A/N: **not sure how this story is going to go. The idea came to me tonight after Chases' failed attempt at celibacy (yeah, I'm pretty sure we all saw that one coming!) and I thought it would be fun to take a deeper look into where he's at right now. So *poof* story pops into my head! No idea if the other characters are going to play a role much (or at all – this really is pretty rough thoughts) and it's not designed to really fit into the plot anywhere other than generally s.7. Enjoy! Comments welcome and encouraged!

[Some random point in the story line:]

Chase closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he reached down and picked up the chart that at best was basically thrown in his general direction and was not a blatant attempt at decapitation-by-paper. The blond nurse who he still couldn't quite remember her name stalked quickly out of the room and he heard the door swish closed forcefully behind her. He didn't pretend to be something he wasn't around here. She knew that it was a good time and not happily ever after that he was offering. But the excuses rang a little hollow today. Especially after his recent failure at celibacy.

"Wow I might start wearing a helmet around here if I were you."

Chase looked up, startled to hear his thoughts voiced aloud. He saw a girl sitting in one the dialysis chairs just a few feet away from where he perched on the stool by the nurses counter. She was cute – 20 something with dark hair and long legs, but pale and the dark circles under her eyes made her look both older and somehow wiser too.

He smiled, putting on his "Charming-Doctor-Face" and reaching for something quippy to say so that he could go back to work: "All I'm likely to get are paper cuts … I think I can handle that."

"Highly unreported statistic of doctor's deaths," she informed him with complete seriousness, leaning her head back against the chairs padded headrest. "All that paperwork and resulting blood loss adds up you know. Before you know it doctors are dropping everywhere!"

Chase laughed despite himself and turned back just in time to see a satisfied smirk on her face.

"I've seen you around here before, haven't I?" he asked, sliding the stool closer and reaching for her chart on the side of the chair.

"Oh I've been around for a bit," she responded, quickly nabbing the chart before his hands could close on it and giving him a slightly disapproving/mocking finger wave before sliding the manila folder beside her leg on the other side of the chair.

"What are you in for?" he crossed his arms across his chest, taking on the best impression of a stern doctor he could muster while trying to hide a smile.

"Diagnosis before name? tsk tsk. You really have been on Dr. House's team too long."

"Where did you hear that?" he demanded, blinking in surprise, losing the posturing and forgetting for a moment where he was: that he was dealing with a patient and was supposed to be professional and objective.

"Nurses talk" the dark eyed girl observed, losing the smile and something almost sad looking out from those dark depths. "When you've slept with three of them on this floor alone in the past few weeks they tend to talk more."

Chase felt his mouth fall open in shock, this perfect stranger – worse this _patient_ –was informing him about his sex life? Oddly enough they never covered the appropriate re-directing response to this in med-school and he was caught with his mouth hanging open and absolute nothing to say.

"I do think they have programs for that," she said into his silence, biting her lips together slightly as if trying not to smile, a mischievous glint back in her eyes. "7 Steps or whatever."

"I don't see how this is any of your business" his tongue was loosened and he felt a flush of anger rising at the suggestion that he was some sort of a sex addict—he'd had enough experience with addicts to be an expert and no patient was going to lecture him about it. "You're a patient, and not even mine," he consciously reminded her of the difference in their prospective places in this encounter but wasn't gratified to see even the smallest hint of shame or remorse in her expression. "You have no business to be commenting on my personal life and if it happens again I'll have to ask the hospital director to reschedule your appointments elsewhere." He was bluffing – Cuddy would probably chastise him for sleeping around the office before she jeopardized a patients' care, but he was angry enough now that he didn't give a shit if she complained about him.

But she only shrugged, pushing a strand of auburn hair that had escaped the braid to fall into her eyes back behind her ear.

"You're probably right," she said looking away briefly before meeting his eyes again.

Chase turned his back on her abruptly cutting off any further conversation. He didn't want an apology – he just wanted people to mind their own god damn business and leave him in peace. Not that he was able to find much of that anywhere anymore.

"But you should probably know," he felt his shoulders stiffen automatically as she spoke again, slightly louder a first to get his attention but he didn't turn and barely glanced back over one shoulder. "Becky's also just been treated for a couple STI and her last boyfriend was just diagnosed with HIV."

The words sent ice water down Chases spine, cooling any anger that might still be burning and settling with a sick feeling in his stomach. He'd been really drunk when he'd picked up Becky at the hospital charity function last week … he'd never be stupid enough not to wear protection … would he? It was all sort of a blur …

He felt himself swivel the chair around again without conscious thought and gave a disbelieving look to the girl, not even realising that he was asking a question without even asking it.

"Nurses talk," she said without a hint of judgement in the tone, and went back to reading her magazine as the next shift nosily came in and started getting ready for the day.

A few days, and a rather embarrassing visit to the clinic later, Robert Chase was back in the dialysis wing hooking up their most recent case: a 40 year old man with liver failure who was having the rather odd synethesia experience of actually feeling himself whatever he saw being done to other people, when he heard an all too familiar voice from the other end of the room. He looked up, trying to be not too obvious about it and yup, he was right: dark haired girl was back again.

She smiled at the nurse who took her over to one the chairs, saying something to make the other woman laugh as she walked away to get one of the other patients who's lines were having trouble settled.

"OUCH!" Chases patient yelled suddenly, pulling his arm away and recoiling in pain.

He quickly looked back down to the man in front of him in concern, only to see that he was whole inches away from the man's arm with the needle and nothing else appeared wrong.

"I haven't even touched you yet," Chase said, glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the room that was now staring at him like he was trying to murder the man. His eyes caught those of the girl across the room and she shook her head slightly, grinning while he took a deep breath and turned back to his patient.

"Sorry," the man said quietly, nodding his head across the way to where Chase could see a little boy who was that distinctive tinge of jaundiced yellow getting the large needle prodded about in his arm by an incompetent new nurse who couldn't find the vein. "But that really hurts!" the man observed, wincing again in pain and his own arm pulling back and away from Chases' harmless hand.

"It's okay. Just give me a second and close your eyes and I'll be right back," Chase said, watching while the grown man in front of him squeezed his eyes shut tight and held his arms tight against his body. He shook his head and turned back across the room. "Let me give you a hand with this one, you can watch what I do this time," he offered, smiling to take the edge off the harsh tone his voice had taken on when the boy looked up at him with tear brimmed eyes.

He took the needle in one hand, and smiled at the child, noticing the dinosaur slippers the kid had on.

"Hey do you happen to like dinosaurs?" he asked innocently, swiping at the small arm with a fresh alcohol pad and trying not to notice the bruises that were already forming from the earlier failed attempts.

The boy nodded, eyes glued to Chases' chest as he stretched the arm out and redid the elastic strip just below the shoulder. "I always like the pterodactyl best –they could probably fly so fast that nothing would ever catch them." He straightened the boys' arm out as he talked, rubbing lightly over the inner elbow with his thumb: it was a double trick, the gentle pressure got the skin sensitized to it so it wouldn't feel the needle as much and it helped him locate the vein to have a better aim the first time round.

"T-rex could get em" the boy mumbled, sniffing once but meeting Chases' eyes now.

"Really? I dunno, I think they were pretty fast flyers."

"No way – t rex would snap a dactyl right outta the air. They were the fastest," the kid observed proud of this knowledgeable fact he was able to display to a grown up.

"But they have such little hands," Chase said, already having inserted the needle he gestured with both hands only a foot or so apart and then reached for the machine to flip it on. He added a little flailing motion so that the kid laughed and tasselled his hair as he walked back to his patient.

"I can get this one!" the nurse said, quickly running over to help him with an eagerness that could mean only one thing: with one simple gesture to help out a patient another nurse had fallen for his blond-boy-next-door-looks and "sexy accent".

"Umm… that's okay. Dr. House is pretty strict about us doing everything ourselves so that we can monitor the patients' reaction at all times" Chase said the lie easily. Truth was that House didn't trust nurses with his patients when he could just make one of his highly trained fellows do it instead – double points: he got to insult the nurses and make the trio's lives miserable all at the same time. "Why don't you go and sit with him for awhile?" Chase suggested, motioning back to the by-now-forgotten child playing happily with a few small scale plastic dinosaur toys.

The nurse flashed him a smile and he turned back to his patient, trying to coax the man's eyes open again with a sigh.

A few minutes later Chase sat back, taking note of the flow of blood through the tubing and making a few quick notes in the chart. His patient was fully hooked up and he had about three hours to kill while he sat here and watched blood whirl through the machine. Pretty much as interesting as watching grass grow, but if he went back to House now he'd only be yelled at for being useless because he didn't wait to confirm Houses' newest theory about the dialysis being useless. He did have some clinic charting to finish up, and there was always paperwork that House neglected to fill out that would keep him busy … but he felt that there was probably something else he should do first, no matter how much he didn't want to…

It had been a very embarrassing trip to the clinic a few days ago, and more so at the pharmacy afterwards (not like he actually dropped off _that _particular prescription at the in hospital pharmacy) but he knew it could have been a lot worse before he got treatment if he hadn't been warned to get checked out. He owed the girl a thank you for that, and probably an apology for being such an unprofessional ass too.

_Best to get this over with_, he thought turning back to the rest of the room – only to find that the new nurse was trying to make another pin cushion out of the girl he was about to look for. It was one thing being new, but he'd just shown her how to find a vein and there she was stabbing about blindly again in utter incompetence. Chase rolled his eyes, his jaw setting in frustration. He couldn't very well sit by and let her torture the girl and then apologist for the other day – that would make him even more of an ass than he was sure she already thought he was. He got up and was about to make his way over and intervene when the girl looked up at his movement and caught his eye, shaking her head no.

Chase stopped and looked back at her in bafflement. It was one thing still being angry but to not let him help when he could clearly do better was insulting – he was a physician, he couldn't just sit by and watch a procedure done painfully when it didn't have to be. He saw the girl wince against her will, her fingers clenching automatically as the nurse obviously struck a nerve, the needle at least an inch into her arm and still not anywhere near a vein.

He shook his head and quickly walked over: let her be mad at him, he'd hook her up, apologise, and then they'd never have to deal with each other again. But he paused as he got closer and heard her speaking quietly, the nurse frowning in concentration.

"Remember," she cautioned "try feeling for the vein – it should be like a wet string, or really flimsy straw under the surface of the skin."

The nurses hand pressed hard above her inner elbow and Robert watched as she winced. "here?"

"Move down… and over," the girls hand guided the nurses wrist closer to where she should be and lightened the pressure. "Feel that?" she asked.

"Right here?"

"Yup, now just slide the needle in … bevel up," she reminded quietly, meeting Chases eyes while he stood behind the nurse watching, something indecipherable but not harmless in his watchful observation.

"There. All done," she said tiredly and the nurse smiled, proud of herself. "Uh, you might want to check on the woman over there though, it looks like the needle's slipped a little bit and she's starting to bleed," she gestured to someone behind Chase and he turned to see a small trail of blood snaking its way down an elderly patients arm from where the needle was inserted.

"Oh!" the nurse said, startled she moved quickly past Chase … but still had time to give him a flirty smile. He could only try and stifled a snort of disgust.

"You could have let me save you some of that pain," Chase muttered, coming over and checking the placement of the needle, his mood not being helped by the fact that this time it was perfect despite the littering of dark bruises on the girl's pale forearm. He leaned away and switched on the machine, checking the dials and making a slight adjustment to reduce the flow – she'd be here another half hour or so, but after repeated needle stabbing drawing a little less blood into her arm immediately would probably reduce the bruising and soreness.

"She had to learn somehow, might as well be on me. … Or maybe I'm just a masochist," she said smiling, but the tiredness in her voice and eyes belied the casual teasing tone.

"Yeah, S&M circuit really seems your scene," Chase commented, giving a pointed glance at the faded blue jeans, tee-shirt and well worn runners she wore.

"All part of my disguise – can't fight crime if everyone knew my secret identity."

He smiled despite his mood, and found himself pulling a stool over even though only a minute ago he'd wanted nothing more than to get this over as quickly as possible.

"I hear those capes can be a real hazard in the cross-town commute. Underreported statistic of whiplash injuries when they get caught in things." He said, hoping to see her smile and look a little less tired and he wasn't disappointed. "So secret identities aside, think I can know your name this time?"

She drew her eyebrows together and pursed her lips in mock intense concentration.

"It's Rhia. Pass me my bag for a sec?" she asked, pointing to the floor near his feet where a leather satchel was leaning against the side of the chair. He grabbed it only to raise his eyebrows in surprise as it turned out to be heavier than he thought and he mock hefted it up to rest beside her legs with a fake grunt.

"What have you got in there, rocks?" he joked.

"Yup," she answered seriously. He wasn't sure whether or not to believe her, or if she was just continuing with their joking until she pulled our a few palm sized pebbles and he couldn't help laughing loudly. "The contents of a woman's bag should always remain one of the great mysteries in men's lives," she told him with a wink.

She dropped the stones into her jeans pocket, next pulling out a book, then a reusable glass water bottle, sugar free gum and a tennis ball, before finally finding what she was looking for. She pulled out her hand, tightly closed around something and looked up at him.

"A peace offering," she said, holding out her hand palm up. "I know I said something the other day that got to you, more than me just being a total stranger inappropriately commenting on your sex life out of the blue. So I'm sorry. It just gets pretty boring in here and someone is always gossiping, and well, it's not like I can just walk away and not listen," she motioned to the tubing that wouldn't let her stray more than about two feet from the chair. "Peace? Or must I do the white flag karaoke routine?"

She opened her fingers and inside was a handful of coins.

"You're bribing me with spare change?" Chase asked, ready to laugh again, but as he picked up one of the coins he noticed links of silver and gold connecting it to the next one, and so on and so on so that they were all in a strand forming a circle. Small holes had been drilled through the metal of the coins rims and each was linked to one another with criss-crossing chains so small they looked like spiders webbing. He felt that the shape and size of some of the coins were off and brought it closer to his eyes to get a better look – each coin was from Australia. He looked up questioning at her and she shrugged.

"Some people bring back postcards … you're from Melbourne area right?"

"Yeah .. how'd you know?" he asked baffled again.

"I spent more time up north, but the southern accent is a little different," she shrugged again. "So you do know the idiom 'See one- Do one-Teach one' doesn't apply to nurses right?" she asked, startling him again … this was getting to be a habit of him underestimating her.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" he asked. Despite how House liked to criticise everyone around him, Chase wasn't stupid and he was feeling distinctly behind the game whenever he was around this girl.

"Told ya," she said scrunching up her nose unhappily like a bunny for a moment, "I'm here a lot."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Foreman pushed another slide under the lens of the microscope, adjusting the focus slightly and looking through the eyepiece for a moment before he sat back with a deep sigh.

"Another one?" Chase asked from where he sat beside him, another microscope and stack of nearly identical slides on the desk before him.

"Yeah," Foreman replied, rubbing briefly at his eyes and shaking his head before reaching for another slide to repeat the whole process over again.

"That's what? At least 20 sites we biopsied, how can his lymph nodes be positive in all of them?" Chase tossed the chart down on the table in frustration. Their patient had gotten dramatically worse over the last 48 hours – his synethesia progressing to the point of nearly unbearable pain from watching such simple actions as someone picking up a glass or walking across the floor. Now he was spiking a fever, and House had been right: the dialysis hadn't done anything to remove the toxins building up in his blood for more than a few hours. Chase and the rest of the team had barely been home, grabbing a few hours of sleep here and there in the call rooms and living off the cafeteria coffee.

"Make that 21," Forman added, his eyes easily picking out the distorted cells under the slide he was looking at now. "Either we screwed up, or he's got cancer everywhere."

"We didn't screw up," Chase defended automatically even knowing that it would be the first thing that House accused them of and made them redo. "And he can't have cancer everywhere – he's not sick enough."

Foreman raised his eyebrows in disbelief at this pronouncement, and Chase snorted: "Okay, he's sick sure. But not enough for it to be cancer that's spread this widely. He'd basically have to be in a coma with full system failure and bleeding out if the cancer is this widespread," Chase took a moment for Foreman to process this information and nod his agreement before he delivered what would be the decisive point: "Plus House has already decided it's not cancer, which means …. "

They both knew what it meant. Chase automatically held out his hand for the ritual rock-paper-scissors game that would decide who would go and biopsy the patient _yet again_ so that they could prove to House they actually hadn't screwed up the first time. It would be nice if their boss would actually believe and encourage them instead of constantly degrading their abilities, but House was House and Chase wasn't about to hold his breath for a warm-and-caring working experience. He had any hopes for that knocked out of him when House's fist had connected with his jaw. Actually, if House did ever treat him fairly he'd probably be more worried than anything… He'd already made a fist and shook it up and down once before Foreman interrupted his thoughts.

"I'll do it."

"What?" Chase looked up in surprise, his fist still held out in front of him. "Why?"

"I don't mind," Foreman added, beginning to gather up the patients chart and putting the slides and tubes back into the fridge.

"That's not what I asked," Chase said, pulling the chart out of Foreman's hands. "Why are you suddenly being so eager to help?"

"You've been on longer than I have, why don't you take a break – get some coffee or lay down for an hour. I can re-do the biopsies and then take the patient back down for his next dialysis session," but he didn't meet Chases' eyes when he said it.

"That's what this is about?" Chase asked in disbelief, latching onto the information that Foreman had inadvertently added without cause. "You want to keep me out of the dialysis ward?" He knew that the problems with Becky … and if he were honest a few of the other nurses from that floor, were a bit embarrassing, but it wasn't something that he'd let interfere with taking care of the patient.

Foreman sighed and turned to confront Chase. He didn't want to get involved, and Chases' love life was really nothing he wanted to start talking about but after so many years working together, they were colleagues … maybe even friends. He took a deep breath: "I walked past the dialysis ward the other day … and … well, I don't care if you want to sleep with all the nurses in the entire hospital-"

"I've never let it interfere with work," Chase began, angry that his friend thought so little of him; angry that they were even having this conversation. He knew that sleeping around the hospital wasn't the best idea but they were all adults here, they knew what they were getting into. If all they saw was his good looks, doctor's coat and accent then why should he give them anything more?

"—but patients are a different story." Foreman finished resolutely. "You can't mess around with them or it'd be your license Chase."

Chase stood there – utterly still and totally confused. "What are you talking about? I'm not involved with a patient."

Foreman shook his head and tried to keep calm, it wasn't like he wouldn't lie too in the same circumstances. "I saw you Chase." He got nothing but Chases' confused stare back. "The girl from the dialysis ward? You two looked pretty cosy there, but I was willing to let it go – you've always had a good bed-side manner, been able to connect with the patients so I thought it was probably just that. But then I saw you in the cafeteria with the same girl earlier…"

Chase knew it had been a mistake to go over to her, but he was so tired and this case was really getting to him. He told himself that the cafeteria was just crowded, it was somewhere to sit … but he'd known that it was more than that.

"I'm not involved with a patient," he repeated, cutting all emotion from his voice and trying to cut off his thoughts of this afternoon too, but failing. "It was just talk; just coffee for Christ's sake. But if you think I'm that stupid, maybe your right – you do the tests. I'll see you upstairs in an hour." He stormed out of the lab, taking the stairs two at a time up to the roof … he wasn't sure if he was more angry at Foreman, or himself, but he needed some space to think.

[earlier that afternoon]

Chase pushed open the doors into the cafeteria and nearly stumbled into the person standing in front of him: the line-up stretching all the way to the door. He cursed under his breath and glanced down at his watch –just his luck, it was right in the middle of lunch and the place was packed full.

The last two days had been a blur of going back and forth between the different floors of the hospital with the occasional trip home to grab a nap or a quick change of clothes. First floor: coffee, up to Four: check on the patient, back to Three: lab, up again to Four: team meeting that quickly deteriorated into House calling them all idiots and leaving, which brought him back to the beginning again, First floor: more coffee. If medical school ingrained anything into him it was that more caffeine couldn't hurt and might actually help him figure out the answer. But from the look of the line in front of him, coffee (and any answers it promised) might be a long wait away.

Chase eyed the line again and considered his options. There were some vending machines off in the north-west corner, stocking questionable sandwiches, chips and the usual variety of old chocolate bars for sugar emergencies after the cafeteria was closed … and one was supposed to dispense hot drinks too. Chase had never tried it, usually preferring to head past one of the nursing stations and charm a cup, but recent experiences had made him decide to avoid that particular temptation for awhile. He sighed, watching as the line moved one person before coming to a stand-still again. It couldn't be that bad right?

He was just about to turn and leave, when someone bumped into him from behind.

"Oh, excuse me," a woman's voice mumbled as she stepped back.

Robert reached out automatically to steady her before registering the blonde hair and pink nurses' garb. She looked up and the smile died on her face even while she pulled away. "Becky," he said quietly, then louder: "Sorry about that…"

She stared angrily up at him, her lips thinning as she frowned. "I don't think you are," she observed, clearly no longer talking about this particular run-in but one from the other night.

Chase gave a pained smile; this really wasn't worth it. "Well it is rather crowded in here, I was just leaving," he said, excusing himself from the conversation as quickly as possible and heading towards the coffee vending machines in the far corner. With any luck he could get a cup of coffee then slip out the doors on this side of the room and not even cross paths with Becky.

His hand reached into the pocket of his lab coat, looking for change to feed into the machine and he blindly pulled out some coins while looking over his shoulder to see Becky still glaring at him from the line-up before turning to say something to another nurse behind her. Chase looked back down to count out $1.25 and saw the linked Australian coins he was coming to think of as a charm bracelet laying in the center of his palm, with a few oddly large looking American coins.

'_Nurses Talk' _ The words echoed in his memory, and he was sure that more talk was happening right now too. He separated the bracelet from the other coins, slipping it back into his pocket while feeding the others into the machine and seeing the paper cup drop down into the dispensing tray. It really had been stupid to hook up with so many staff members, this last time he was drunk but that wasn't much of an excuse and now it was going to be all over the hospital or at least all of the nursing staff soon. How many times had he gotten into trouble for having relationships in the wrong places? First there was the facebook profile … and that had been embarrassing enough, but at least it hadn't entirely affected his working life and thankfully hadn't gotten outside of the team, this on the other hand…

He heard the coffee stop streaming into the cup and was brought back from his musings. He picked it up and was about to make his way over to the door when he saw someone sitting a few tables away and paused for a minute. Her hair was loose, falling in dark waves around her shoulders and her head was stuck in a book, hiding everything but the top of her dark eyes, but still Chase recognized her: Rhia. She sat alone at one of the tables by the window, lunch abandoned in front of her while she concentrated on the book. In the middle of the busy and bustling cafeteria it was like there was a pool of stillness and quiet around her. Chase remembered how easy it was to talk to her, how she always seemed to be able to make him smile. He found himself threading his way through the tables and chairs, drawn by the calmness she presented.

He knew he should be leaving. The team was waiting, and there were more tests to be run. Becky would be furious if she saw him talking to another girl and it would only add to her gossip. And Rhia was a patient … if nothing else it was bad form to be seen talking to patients outside of the clinic rooms: it encouraged people to come up to doctors on their breaks rather than waiting for appointments. And yet… still…

"Hi," he said, finding himself suddenly in front of her table without really remembering any conscious decision to come over.

She held up one finger for silence for a moment before looking up and smiling at him. "Hi back." Slipping a five dollar bill into the book she closed it and set it on the table, gesturing for him to sit down.

"Good book?" he asked, then immediately berated himself for such a stupid and obvious question.

"Not as bad as that coffee anyways," she said, raising an eyebrow at the cup he held. "Where did you find that? It looks like motor oil."

Chase looked down into the cup and had to admit that she was right – there were colours swirling on the top of the black liquid that definitely weren't supposed to be found in coffee and it was disturbingly heavy for such a small cup. He gestured over to where the machines sat abandoned while the cafeteria was still open and she grimaced.

"You can't possibly drink that- you'd probably end up killing someone, or poisoning yourself."

"Might not be due to the coffee…" he mumbled, looking down into the cup, his mind lost once more in their current failure to figure out what was wrong with the patient. He was getting worse by the day and if they didn't find an answer soon … well, it wouldn't be like he'd actively killed him, but he couldn't entirely be blameless either.

"Your day's going that good then?" she asked, the sarcasm almost lost in the quiet concern of her tone.

Chase shook himself and tried pasting on a smile: he was being a selfish ass again. Here she was, in the hospital and sick and with everything else to deal with still managing to be caring and kind and he proceeds to dump all his problems on her too. "It's been okay. How are you doing?"

She just looks at him, letting the moments stretch but the silence isn't uncomfortable and Robert doesn't feel scrutinized or judged by her at all. Only like she's reading him somehow and waiting.

"You're lying," she states bluntly, grabbing a carrot of the tray in front of her and munching it while he splutters.

"What? … you're calling me a liar?"

"I said you lied. Cause you did," she leans in, whispering this to him like it was some kind of secret. "If your day is really going that shitty, at least be honest about it. I was kicked on purpose today," she adds for example.

"What?" he's beginning to feel like a broken record. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it probably would have been worse if the kid had been over 4 … or wearing something other than slippers," she smiles. "I was upstairs in Pediatrics doing some volunteering with the kids, one of whom apparently really doesn't like stories about lions." Rhia made a cat-clawing motion in the air and he smiled imagining the scene. "Your turn."

Chase shook his head, his fingers turning the coffee cup round and round on the table. "I don't want to bother you with my problems."

"Are you going to kick me?" she asked surprising him so that he looked up in shock.

"What? No!"

"Well then, I'm not bothered."

He sighed, realizing that even while he knew he shouldn't put this on her that one of the reasons he'd come over was because he was needing a break, a breath of calm and perspective. And she always seemed to give him just that.

"It's just our patient. He's not doing so well, and I can't figure out what could possibly be wrong. If we don't…well, it doesn't look good," Robert concluded, trying to gloss over the actual word 'death' and lighten it up as much as possible. He waited, expecting to hear the usual words of comfort and concern: you're doing the best you can, if you're meant to save him you will, you're not the only one responsible the rest of the team is there too…but the silence stretched again and he looked up to find her looking at him strangely.

"I didn't figure you for having so much of a god-complex," she observed. "I mean, doctors are usually a bit of control-freaks, wanting to control everything, even life and death, but I guess I thought you were a little more ordinary and normal, more mortal than all that." She was watching him absorb this with a slight smile as he realized that she wasn't really criticising him but gently reminding him that everyone was human and had faults and flaws and really could only try. "But hey, if you really are superman that coffee might not poison you … unless it's laced with kryptonite… is that a green tint?" she asked teasingly.

"It can't be that bad …" he mumbled, raising the cup and considering taking a sip. She didn't try and stop him but made a face, screwing her nose up and covering her eyes like something frightful was about to happen. He couldn't help but laugh and since he couldn't drink while laughing he had to put the cup back down.

"A-ha!" she declared in triumph, and reaching out pulled the cup away from his side of the table.

"No fair," Robert commented, still trying to maintain a straight face. "Now I won't be able to stay awake," he pouted.

"Hmmm… that might be important huh? Wouldn't want you dozing off in the middle of some important life-saving procedure or something," she seemed to consider this a moment before reaching into her bag and pulling out a cylindrical silver travel mug and sliding it across the table to him. "Try this."

"I can't take your coffee."

"Who said it was coffee – you haven't tried it yet," she tempted.

He smiled, humouring her and unscrewed the lid to smell the richness of dark coffee with a hint of cinnamon floating up towards him. "Coffee," he concluded, replacing the top.

She shrugged mockingly and grinned, "Can't fool you."

Chase stood on the roof of Princeton Plainsboro Hospital, watching as the last of the light from the sky faded into darkness. He twirled the cool metal of the mug in his hands, sliding his palms up and down the stainless steel surface. He still didn't know how she'd gotten him to agree to take it, his pager had gone off shortly after that and he'd left to help Foreman with the biopsies.

He knew that he shouldn't have been so angry with Foreman – he'd only been trying to help Chase out, to tell him what he already knew: that whatever was between himself and Rhia wasn't as plain and simple as doctor-patient, and it couldn't be anything else. Even though he wasn't her doctor it was still dangerous to his license, not to mention his and the hospitals reputation for there to be anything more between them.

_Better to stop it now__,_ he thought, turning away from the night sky with the stars just starting to come out and going inside. He'd focus on the patient, and work, and fixing the problems he was bound to have soon with the nursing staff. There wouldn't be time for anything else and with life so busy he'd be happier and things would fall back into place … at least that's what he repeated to himself as he took the stairs back down to the fourth floor and House's office.

_So then why do I feel like everything will only be worse?_

Robert paused a moment, with his hand on the door at the bottom of the stairs. Closing his eyes he does something that he hasn't in years: he says a short prayer, asking for something that he didn't even know how to put into words, before taking a deep breath and walking out onto the ward to face another sleepless night.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3:

She squeezed up to the edge of the bar, smiling a brief apology to the dark haired guy in the suit on one side of her and edging around the blonde on the other. It was Friday night and the place was packed, the line around the bar three people deep if you could actually call the milling sea of people a line. She flicked a glance back at the suit, catching his eye briefly…just long enough to be flirty so he'd forget that she might have just cut in front of him, and looked around for the bartender.

Great – way off the other end and it didn't look like he was going to get back this way too soon. She was considering whether to trek further down or wait it out when someone jostled her from behind, sliding an arm around her and pushing their way beside her at the bar.

"Buy a girl a drink?" a sultry voice shouted in her ear. She had to hand it to the woman – that would have been a pretty sexy drawl if it had been whispered, as it was the delivery lost some of its charm, but then you needed to shout to be heard over the pulsing music in this place.

"I'm tryin' darlin'," she mock-drawled back, putting on her best fake Texan accent (or at least the best that could be accomplished while shouting) and leaning into the woman's arms. "It ain't my fault the barkeeps' way down yonder."

The arm tightened around her shoulder and slid up to hook around her neck loosely as she turned to look at her best friend and was met by a blur of red and pink. Dedrie's red hair had come undone at some point between the last club and this one, the pink feather boa around her neck vying with the equally bring pink and white beads that were looped around her wrists.

She turned, looking back over her shoulder to the practically un-missable cloud of pink and white that was the rest of the bachelorette party occupying a corner table near the dance floor. Sara's last night of single-fun and they were bar hopping from dance club to cocktail lounge and back again. At least she'd been able to talk Dedrie out of that stripper…

"Y'all wouldn't be makin' fun of me, would ya Rhia?" her friend pouted, shooting a much flirtier look than Rhia had dared at the suit behind her while all the while still pretending to mock strangle her.

"Never," Rhia swore, raising one hand and placing the other over her heart in all seriousness. She wiggled a little, succeeding in both reminding Dedrie to 'free' her and also getting the bartender's attention as he started to make his way back down towards their end.

"I dunno," Dedrie shook her head, red curls bouncing. "She's always making fun of me," she shouted, pouting to the suit.

"A round of cosmo's and you'll forgive and forget," Rhia said confidently, hands tapping the slightly sticky bar-top while her eyes scanned down the crowd. The suit leaned in, yelling something in response at Dedrie, but Rhia completely missed it, barely even noticing the musty-musky smell of his cologne … her eyes were caught by someone sitting further down the bar, downing a beer and following it up with a shot of something dark before flagging down the bartender for a second. She almost didn't recognize him, the blonde hair slightly messy and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days, but there was something about the way he moved, the way his hands gestured that was unmistakable. Robert Chase.

"What can I get you?" The loud voice nearly in her ear made her jump, and she realized she'd been leaning far forward onto the counter to get a better look. She glanced at the suit beside her… he'd technically been first, but Dedrie had her arm hooked through his by now and he smiled waving her forward mouthing something that looked like "ladies first!"

"Uh – round of cosmo's," she yelled, pointing to the group of 5 bridesmaids in pink behind her and raising her own strands of pink and white beads from around her neck for emphasis, "And a cranberry with soda." He nodded wordlessly and turned away, but her attention was already gone. Down the bar Chase had succeeded in ordering another shot and beer and was quickly working his way through that one as well.

_He looks like crap. _She took in the light blue coloured scrubs he wore when his jacket shifted open and the way he didn't seem to acknowledge anyone else in the bar other than the bartender even thought it was crowded. _Shit. What had happened?_

Glasses clinked against her hand and she looked up to see the last in a row of pink martini glasses set down in front of her. The man leaned in to yell the cost into her ear and she automatically passed over a handful of twenty dollar bills without really thinking, only to reach out and grab his wrist before he could turn away to get the change.

"How many has he had?" she yelled over the noise, her hand pointing his towards where Chase's figure hadn't moved from the bar.

"Friend of yours?" he asked, looking at her again and she nodded. "Too many." She nodded again, letting his hand go and turning back to Dedrie.

"Dee!" she pulled her friend in close, smelling the floral shampoo that Dedrie used in her hair. "Could you take these over? I see someone I know and I just want to say hi!" Dedrie pulled back in mock astonishment and Rhia smiled on even as she shook her head at Dee's antics. She wasn't usually the one of the two of them to be picking up people at bars – that was more Dee's thing, as evidenced by the suit who stepped up to help take the remaining cosmo's over to their table.

Rhia watched them leave with the drinks – her own hand curling around the cool glass of her cranberry soda water, the water condensing on the outside making it slippery so that she had to hold tightly while she threaded her way back out of the throng around the bar. Finally free she waved to Sara and the rest of the girls, pasting on a fake smile and taking a deep breath as she turned away.

The last time she'd tried this, he'd nearly taken her head off. And here she was budding into his personal life again? Maybe she was seeing the wrong type of doctor … a psychiatrist it more what she needed! But … there was just something about Chase that she couldn't ignore and walk away from. Taking a long sip from her drink – and wishing that it wasn't a virgin, she'd just pretend that there was courage in it anyways – she pushed through the crown until she was right behind him.

There was a bit of a gap around him; as if the rest of the patrons were unconsciously keeping their distance from the moody fellow who was going through alcohol like it was water – and it was easy for her to slip into it. Her arm barely brushing his as she moved up to the bar.

He looked even worse up close: the dark circles under his eyes hinted at days without any real sleep and he was more pale and unkempt with his hair falling every which way and wrinkles in his scrubs. She waited a heartbeat. Two. Three. He didn't look up.

Rhia re-estimated her earlier assumption that he'd been ordering a second drink when she first spotted him – more like second half dozen if he didn't notice someone this close to him.

She leaned into him, ignoring the smell of alcohol that hung about him like a mist. "Come here often?" she yelled, with just a hint of sensor in her tone and more flirt than she'd intended. She was hoping for a witty come-back, even a witty brush-off would be an okay acknowledgement of reality, but he mumbled something without looking up and reached for the shot glass, having drained the last of the beer again.

Without thinking she reached out automatically hand brushing over his to close over the glass and bring it swiftly to her lips. His attention followed the motion as his eyes tracked the glass of dark alcohol faster than his hand could as he clumsily tried to snatch it back. The sight of his movements dulled by beer and shots twisted something painfully inside and she tipped back the shot, feeling the whiskey burn down her throat to settle with an ache near her stomach.

She swallowed, blinking away the burning of the alcohol and turned to meet his stare: angry blue eyes if anything only became more infuriated when he finally recognized her. But that was okay – she was a little pissed off too and ready to give back anything he could dish out, but she still wasn't prepared for what came next.

His hand closed roughly over her wrist where it lay on the bar-top, her fingers still holding the empty shot glass loosely, and he shook it in front of her before pulling the glass out of her hand and tossing it onto the bar.

"You's 'houldn't be s''drinking!" he yelled angrily, his words slurring together as he dropped her hand and motioned for another drink himself. The bartender glanced over Chases head to where Rhia stood beside him and she shook her head, her eyes daring the man to deny that she was right and he shouldn't have another drink.

"Neither should you – you've had enough."

"You'rs not s'ppose to be lect-shruring me," he complained, pushing her away and then having to grab at the edge of the bar for balance. "Give me anouther drink!"

The bartender shook his head, motioning with his hand across his neck that he was cutting Chase off, only to have Chase lurch across the counter to try and grab a bottle from behind the bar. Rhia grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to pull him back while the bartender motioned for security from the front doors.

"Come on!" She yelled, finally hauling Chase back only to have to brace herself against the bar as he fell into her, nearly taking them both to the floor. "I'm putting you in a cab home."

Chase pulled out of her grasp, leaning back across the bar and shouting something at the bartender that was lost in all the noise. She couldn't believe he was trying to drunkenly talk the man into giving him more alcohol.

"You're going home!" she repeated, pulling at his arm only to fall back into the man behind her when he shook her off. Hands caught and held her and she looked up to find another man turning around and looking like he'd just won the lottery with her literally falling into his lap. "Honey, if he wont' go home with you, I will!" and before she could extract herself or make an excuse he grabbed her tighter, hand cupping her ass as he pulled her in for a kiss.

She was just about to slap the strange guy when suddenly his head shot back and he dropped her, her elbow jarring painfully against the bar as she went down. Another person fell beside her a second later, and she recognized the man who'd grabbed her now knocked out cold on the floor. Chase stood over them both, a bruise beginning to show on his jaw and his knuckles bloody.

"Get the hell off'a her," he snarled, not seeming to realize that the man was completely unconscious but when he didn't move, Chases' stance relaxed a little and he looked over at Rhia.

"He's s'had too much s'to drink," he said in explanation, partially acknowledging at the same time that maybe the man on the floor wasn't the only one. But he had a right to drink … this guy, his shoe reached out to poke at the expensive pant-suit the man was wearing, he was probably just here for fun, drinking to have a good time and maybe meet women. Chase was drinking to forget.

Hard hands closed around his arms and he turned to see two big guys, grab ahold of him and start pulling him towards the door. "Enough for one night man," one of them said. "Time to go home and sleep it off."

The cab ride was a bit of a blur. Robert remembered the cool night air on his skin after the heat of so many people pressed close together inside the bar. He remembered sitting on the curb and thinking that he could feel the earth rotating so fast that all that was keeping him from being tossed to the ground with its turning was the hand pressed on his shoulder. Then he was being talked into a cab, soft hands helping him in and a voice murmuring nonsense words of encouragement as he laid himself down across the backseat.

Then nothing until cool air hit his face again and he managed to open his eyes to see his building in slightly blurry form in front of him. He stumbled out of the cab and tried to make his way to the door, but the walk seemed to have become strangely winding overnight and he couldn't quite say off the grass…An arm slipped around his waist, another hand pulling his arm over a shoulder as he managed to teeter up the steps to lean against the front door. He barely felt the small hand slip into his pocket and the sound of his keys jingling was like the musical wind chimes they'd had in the summer house when he was a kid.

"S'it's the round one," he mumbled, when the sound began to change from happy memories of sand between his toes and salt in his hair to the clinking of wine glasses and the smell of alcohol and vomit mixed with his mothers' perfume. The key twisted in the lock and the sound fell away, leaving his memories quiet again.

Robert moved down the hallway in a daze, passing the dark doorways without really noticing anything the path was so routine. His apartment was near the back and he tried to avoid the (he was sure) maliciously placed doormats and the odd umbrella or pair of boots that his neighbours left in the hallway purposely to trip him up. He didn't notice the careful righting of door decorations or straightening of mats that happened in his wake.

He stopped blindly in front of his door, all the alcohol he'd drank earlier catching up with him quickly and making it nearly impossible for him to open his eyes to find the keys so he get inside to his bed… come to think of it, the carpet was looking rather plush and comfortable. And had it been cleaned? He was sure there were more stains than he currently saw, and he leaned down to get a closer look.

"Come on," quiet hands held him and propped him up against the door frame. He heard the clink of keys again, but this time his mind didn't go to painful or pleasant places … right here was good enough. His hands reached out towards the soft voice, opening his eyes just enough he managed to wrap his arms around her waist and lean his head in to nuzzle her neck while she unlocked and pushed open the door.

He tried not to lean too much of his weight on her, cause he vaguely recalled some memory that she was frail seeming, but it was hard to think and so he pushed the thought away, instead concentrating on how soft her hair felt as his fingers brushed through it.

"Come on," her hands pulled him through the door, and even in the dark of his apartment, where he knew the way, there seemed to be furniture and items left in his way to trip him up. Robert used his strange clumsiness, knowing that he could turn almost anything to his advantage and this whole situation seemed surreal so why not? He wrapped his arms around her from behind, forcing her to slowly lead him into the room, his body swaying close with hers. His lips traced a line down the edge of her jaw and onto her neck where he could kiss the pulse beating there. His hands moved upwards slowly pushing up the edge of her shirt and fingertips stroking back and forth slowly as they moved back into the bedroom.

It was like a dance, and everything seemed slow and dreamlike and peaceful. Robert remembered trying to hold onto that feeling, something desperate in the attempt, as the darkness grew around them and he pulled her down with him into the bed.

A/N: Review please! Begging now, I know, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on where you'd like this to go! Xo ~Xan


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4: The Morning After pt.1

Robert opened his eyes and immediately swore as the harsh sunlight – even muted as it was by the blinds on the windows, seemed to lance into his head. He rolled away from the source of the pain, pulling one arm over his eyes while he tried to assess the situation. From the brief glimpse he'd managed it was obvious that he was in his own flat. Although he had no idea how he'd gotten there. God, he hoped he hadn't been stupid enough to drive last night .. His fingers reached out blindly fumbling at the nightstand beside his bed – small square box – pager. Larger square box – alarm clock. And that round of metal had to be his watch. A few papers fell harmlessly to the floor as he reached the far side and slowly brushed his hand back again to be sure – no keys. So he hadn't driven.

Thank God.

Now for the rest of the night. He remembered House cursing them out before storming out. He remembered Thirteen telling him to go home, but he just had to do it himself… (and quite obviously he hadn't taken her advice immediately: he didn't have enough alcohol on hand to become this hungover) but the rest? He vaguely remembered a bar, but then that might be just him wanting to remember it more than he actually did.

Chase rolled over again and then held absolutely still while he stomach settled – it seemed to lurch about in his abdomen with every movement, and even though he knew it was empty, he still felt the urge to throw up rising. But there was something else more immediately concerning … he cracked his eyes open enough to gage the distance from his bed to the bathroom on the other side of the room. It seemed like an impossible trek this morning, but his bladder was making urgent demands and so… he pulled himself to a sitting position, nearly overbalancing and landing back on his face in bed but he caught himself at the last minute and sat staring at the sheets while his stomach settled.

"Just a few step Rob, come on," he mumbled to himself in encouragement.

Taking a few deep breaths he finally managed to get to his feet and stumble into the bathroom. The second his bare feet hit the cold tile floor he nearly lost control and scurried quickly to the toilet.

The sound of it flushing created an immediate answering swooshing in his head as the headache that was a dull ache in his temples turning into a full pounding rush.

"Ughh," he leaned his head against the cool porcelain of the sink for a moment, before splashing cold water on his face to wake up. It didn't actually wake him up, but it did effectively clear the sweat and sleep and alcohol from last night off his skin. Brushing wet hands back through his hair he automatically looked into the mirror mounted above the sink and couldn't help the gasp of shock.

His skin was an unfamiliar tinge of white-green, dark circles under his eyes only enhanced by the water drops that clung to his eyelashes. There was a dark purple bruise clearly visible on his jaw beneath the golden morning stubble. He reached up one hand to touch the stain carefully, his mind hoping that it was some smudge on the mirror rather than on him, but the pain that poking it produced could only make it natural. It was confirmed by the matching bruises he saw across his knuckles – the middle joint swollen red and split open.

"What happened last night?" he murmured quietly to his pale reflection in the mirror.

"I suppose I shouldn't be too offended if you don't remember." The voice shook him and he spun quickly around, only to brace his hands against the sink again as the world continued spinning.

"Rhia?" he asked, not wanting to believe his eyes. She stood before him, casually leaning against the door frame wearing one of his tee-shirts and an extra pair of scrub pants. Her hair was down, the dark waves dishevelled and frizzy as if she'd just gotten up.

She smiled at him and inclined her head slightly, before tilting it to study him like he was a specimen.

"You're looking rather … unsteady this morning," she concluded finally, setting something down on the dresser behind her before stepping into the bathroom. "Come on, lets get you back to bed."

Robert was feeling rather like the world had suddenly turned into a strange and topsy-turvy place this morning and so he didn't argue when she put her arm around his waist and led him back to the edge of the bed. It all felt rather familiar… He just watched her, his eyes still round with shock, as she moved about his bedroom: picking up the papers he'd pushed to the floor earlier, closing the curtains a little and turning off the bathroom light. On her way back to the bed she grabbed two glasses off the dresser.

"Here," she pressed one, filled with room temperatured water into his hand, the other shaking out a number of different coloured pills onto her open palm. "Ibprofin, gravol and a little something to take the edge off," she said holding them out to him.

He could only sit there and stair: his eyes going back and forth between the water glass and the bed since he couldn't bring himself to look at her. How could he have picked up a patient? Where was his common sense? Or any sense of self-preservation? He was going to get fired… worse he was going to lose his license. It was a good thing that his father was dead, cause this would probably kill him if he wasn't.

"Chase?" Rhia dropped the pills onto the bedside table, and reached out to raise his chin slowly with two fingers so he would look her in the eye. He looked so lost and confused she couldn't repress the gentle smile that pulled the corners of her lips up. "Chase," she repeated, biting at her lips to try and contain the images of what he must be imagining right now from completely taking over her mind. She had to admit to drawing out the moment – letting him squirm a little bit, but it wasn't in her nature to be unkind and she had to tell him eventually.

"Nothing happened last night."

The words made no sense to him immediately. His mind so far down the road of losing his job and everything he'd ever worked for in his life that it took far too many seconds for them to sink in.

"Nothing?" he questioned, eyes finally meeting hers of their own volition and latching onto the word.

She shook her head no then paused, bringing one finger to rest on her lips in consideration before laughing and Chase had to smile at the sound. "We ran into each other in a bar last night – I was out for a friends bachelorette party, and thanks for not minding me borrowing the clothes by the way," she gestured down to the tee-shirt and scrubs, "these were the only things that would fit me and feather boas and marti gras beads aren't really the best pj's. You'd obviously had way to much to drink," here she rolled her eyes at him but took the humour out of the gesture with the look that promise he'd have to explain some of that later. "And I brought you home," she concluded, leaving out or glossing over some of the details.

"And that's all?" he asked, not quiet believing it, but wanting to so much that the niggling questions were pushed to the back of his mind.

"That's all. Well, other than the fight."

"I think maybe you should tell me about that too," Chase said, lingeringly touching his jaw and feeling his swollen fingers protest the movement.

"I tried to get you to put ice on those last night," Rhia scolded. "But you weren't exactly being cooperative."

"I know, I'm sorry about that," Robert apologised, even though he didn't remember last night he did remember enough from previous times that he'd had too much to drink that his behaviour was fairly easy to surmise. He wasn't really one of those happy-drunks, hard to be with everything that had happened in his life.

"Well you can make up for it now," Rhia said with determination as she pushed the glass towards his lips and held out the gravol and ibprofin again. Robert dutifully took a small sip and swallowed the proffered pills before leaning back into the pillows again. His head really was starting to spin and even with the shades closed it was still too bright for his morning-after eyes.

The silence stretched comfortably, and Robert felt the bed give slightly as she sat down beside him.

"What about the fight?" he asked when he was growing too aware of her presence and even dehydrated he realised he needed a distraction.

"Oh that," the bed bounced slightly as she moved and Chase tried to ignore his stomach. The gravol was helping a little since he no longer felt like it was sloshing about inside him, but he still felt sick. "You were very chivalrous. Even managed to stay standing up for most of it." Chase groaned, sure that she was mocking him but then her tone turned more serious. "There was this jerk at the bar, he was a little far gone in the drink and got kind of grabby. Wouldn't take no for an answer, and I was just about to slap him for kissing me – if you call that slobbering tongue a kiss! – when you beat me to it. Knocked him out cold, although he was probably well on the way to doing that himself too. Then the bouncers dragged…um, kicked us out, and I brought you home."

"Glad to be of service m'lady," Chase intoned using his seminary voice, he made a mocking half salute without lifting his arm too much from where it had resumed the position over his eyes. "It's good to think that something good came out of last night anyways," he murmured.

Chase felt her shift again on the bed, coming slightly closer to his prone form. "What was with last night anyways?" she asked quietly, trying not to push him but still wanting to help. Something had obviously gotten to him – he wasn't the type to spend his weekends drunk out of his mind, and yet something had cause him to sit at that bar, pounding back drink after drink. "What were you trying so hard to forget?"

Robert was silent for a moment, before he turned over onto his side, his head cradled in one arm, the other laying on the sheets only inches from her. Unlike before, he really didn't want to talk about this. He'd spent most of yesterday drinking to try and forget about it … but he didn't want that either… so…

"Our patient, the one I was telling you about, the one I was with in the dialysis ward when we first met, he died," he stated it simply and bluntly like he'd been trained to in medical school, echoing the words of his teachers like rote: _we did all we could, but I'm sorry he died. _They always told you to actually use the word 'death' or 'dead' or 'died' just to drive the point home so that the family wouldn't hold onto some hope in vague language. Invariably they collapsed at the news and so it was always advisable to get the family to sit down, but she was already sitting and so he waited for her to pull away, to get up and walk towards the window … but she didn't. She reached down and he felt her fingers intertwine with his.

"I'm sorry."

"Everyone's sorry," Chase said harshly, but his hand closed around hers to take the sting out of the words. "It doesn't make a difference. He's still dead," _and here's the part that will make her run_, he thought, "And I still killed him."

A/N: short but hopefully sweet! Reviews are love! xo


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5: The Morning After Pt.2

Rhia sat there numb but didn't move, barely even breathing. She waited for him to continue, to say something that would explain it – it was an accident, or a mix-up, or they just hadn't solved the case in time. She knew it had to be something like that, but even as her brain threw rational scenarios at her, part of her was whispering that it wasn't necessarily true. Chase was a doctor; he'd taken an oath to heal and do no harm, but there was something about this death that was haunting him. More than just a doctor that lost a patient. As horrible as it was, that happened, it was a fact of life that people died, and sometimes there was nothing that you could do to stop it. If he'd managed to get through medical school and residency without losing a patient she'd be surprised… there was something more here.

"Why do you think you're responsible?" she had to swallow twice before getting the question out past the lump in her throat, but she was pleased to hear that she didn't sound strained or hoarse.

"Isn't the doctor always responsible?" he asked, still not looking at her but addressing some point in the middle-distance between her and the window. "We always should know the answer, should have figured it out sooner, or done a different test. If we'd only chosen the right diagnosis…" he trailed off, thinking back to the other day. It had come down to two drastic options … trust him to chose the wrong one.

[ the previous day- morning]

Masters sat at the head of the table, her nose buried in the open chart in front her as if it was written in a foreign language and would reveal the diagnosis if she could only stare at it long enough. Foreman paced the length of the windows behind her.

"We've got to call House," he said, turning back to where the rest of the team sat in silence.

"No … just a second …" Masters leafed through a few pages, ending up on a lab requisition form for blood work that was two pages long. They'd tested him for every poison or heavy metal under the sun – and then some, and still nothing. "What about lupis?" she asked hopefully, her eyes skimming the lab. "We never did an ANA-antibody test – it could be lupis."

"It's never lupis," Chase echoed, repeating some of the very first words that he'd ever heard from House.

"But we never did the test that would confirm that," Masters said again, and Chase couldn't help but roll his eyes as she started ploughing through the chart again and looking at all the past blood tests they'd done over the last 4 days.

"Doesn't matter," Chase interrupted. "ANA is only positive in about 60% of cases. And if we treat him with steroids right now we're apt to make his heart explode. So unless you've figured out a way that he can live without a heart?" he trailed off.

"Transplant list? Bypass in the in term?" she suggested.

"It's. Not. Lupis." Chase repeated, so tired he didn't care if he sounded crass; she was beginning to remind him of a bulldog.

"And he'd never make it onto a list in the first place with systemic organ failure this advanced," Taub added for good measure.

"We have to call House," Foreman said again, picking up the phone and beginning to dial. "This is his patient, he should be interested in solving the puzzle if nothing else!"

"That obviously wasn't enough of an incentive for him to return your last five pages or phone calls," Thirteen observed.

"Well do you have a better idea?" Foreman challenged her, he was tired and frustrated and right now she was an easy target. "Or any diagnosis at all?"

Thirteen sat in silence and glared up at him from beneath her short bangs.

"His liver, kidneys and heart are all failing. It's not toxic exposure – we've searched his house, work and surrounding area. We've tested him for alcohol, drugs and any other chemical substance he could have taken and come up with nothing. His skin literally looks like it's boiling off from the inside, but he doesn't have a fever and it's not an allergic reaction to anything that we've tested him for, and he hasn't improved since being in the clean room." Foreman paused for breath and looked around the room: Thirteen sat at the opposite end of the table, her crossed arms and pushed back chair hinting that she was probably still mad about him contradicting her. Masters sat beside him, still clutching the patients' chart unconsciously like it was some sort of security blanket and looking nervous. Taub looked rumpled and half asleep. Chase was half way down the table, his chin propped up in one hand he steadfastly avoided looking at any of them. Foreman hadn't been alone with him since their conversation in the lab the other day, and he knew they were going to have to have it out sooner or later, but he could live with the later, their patient couldn't.

"Anything I missed?" he asked, already knowing the answer before they all shook their heads no.

"It could still be poisoning," Chase commented, looking up for the first time. "There are a few of the more obscure heavy metals that we don't have a test for."

"So what then? Our patient just happened to be poisoned by something that we can't test for? Even if I buy it, you'd still have to sell it to House," Foreman's tone made it clear how unlikely he thought that would be.

"What about cancer?" The voice from the hallway made them all look up simultaneously in surprise. "House has been paging me, every time you page or call him. All night long," Wilson explained. "I would have come by sooner, but I went by his apartment first. And no, he wasn't there. I had some faint hope that he might be here…" Wilson gestured around the room, encompassing the five bedraggled and sleep deprived figures in front of him before turning to look into House's empty office. "But that was clearly only wishful thinking."

"He left last night," Foreman offered.

"After a meeting with Cuddy," Chase injected.

"Haven't seen or heard from him since," Taub added.

"Not that we haven't been trying," Foreman concluded, wincing as Wilson's pager beeped loudly again. "And that'll probably be us… or us paging House, who's paging you. Again. Sorry."

Wilson deleted the page, shaking his head before walking into the room. "I probably should be used to this by now…" he trailed off, as he started reading the treatment board.

"Ummm… you said something about cancer?" Masters asked, her hand slightly raised as if she were still in a classroom rather than an office. Wilson knew that it was probably just to get his attention, but he couldn't' help it if it also drew his attention to how young she was. But then, her time on Houses' team had changed her … and she seemed a little less young, less innocent than when Cuddy had hired her.

Wilson shook himself back to the present and the case, pushing his concern for House out of his mind again.

"I see you've done a pet-scan," Wilson said, trying to interpret the scrawling letters that had been written by at least 3 different hands.

"No lesions, no masses, no nothing that's not supposed to be there,," Taub said hopelessly.

"What about what's supposed to be there?" Wilson asked.

"Huh?" Five equally bewildered faced turned towards him.

"Isn't everything being normal in a patient this abnormal a little odd? Maybe I've been friends with House too long, but that seems worth investigating to me."

"We did an exploratory surgery," Chase mumbled sleepily, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his face. "And even took samples for testing. I even ran the entire colon – everything checked out."

"Maybe it's not something that can be seen during surgery," Wilson mused, marking a few things on the treatment board. "There are a few rare types of Lymphoproliferative cancers that could cause some of this damage at an advanced stage… and here," he pointed to one of the findings on the board: "Unusually high findings of abnormal lymph nodes – that fits."

"What about the kidney and liver damage? The heart failure could be secondary to the cancer, but the other organ damage doesn't fit … unless it's an underlying condition … did you find any evidence of alcohol or drug use at his house? Anything at all?" Thirteen asked.

"Nothing," Foreman answered. "Not even a bottle of wine or the usual cold mediation you'd expect to find…." He trailed off, something suddenly occurring to him after what Wilson had said about how he hadn't considered what was there… or in the case of the apartment search – what wasn't. "And that's weird, I mean who doesn't have even something for a headache in their medicine cabinet?"

"So maybe he doesn't get sick," Masters half stated, half guessed.

"Or maybe he's medicating some where else?" Taub posed. "There was a bar on the corner two doors down from his apartment right?"

They looked at each other, each individually sizing up the puzzle and weighting the evidence.

"It makes sense," Foreman finally concluded for all of them.

"Only one problem," Wilson said regretfully, and remembering yet another reason why he needed to find House and get him back into work as soon as possible: he wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. Sure, he could tell a patient they were dying, or sit with them during their final moments, try to reduce the pain, but this sort of life or death treatment decisions? They made his stomach roll. He waited until they were all looking at him again before stating the obvious; "The treatment if it's cancer is a combination of radiation and chemotherapy, bone marrow transplants if it's really this far advanced. We effectively nuke his immune system and then add in more poison. If it's anything other than cancer though … we'd only be killing him faster."

"Can we confirm that it's a form of Lymphoproliferative cancer before we start the treatment?" Master's asked, but Foreman was shaking his head even before she finished speaking.

"No, it would take too long. He doesn't have more than a few more hours, maybe the rest of the day at most."

"What about House?" she followed up. "Would he agree with a diagnosis of cancer?"

"He's not exactly around to ask…" Thirteen observed slowly.

"He said it wasn't cancer before," Chase commented quietly. "I don't think there's much of anything that we could show him that would change his mind…" he rubbed his jaw, unconsciously remembering the last time he'd tried to confront House that he was wrong about a diagnosis.

"Cancer fits," Foreman responded quietly to Chases' unspoken concerns.

"I know," he said, "there's just something still bothering me about this…"

Wilson looked around the table, wishing that House were here, or that he at least knew where the hell House was. "I can make the arrangements to start high dose chemo in the next hour… if you're sure?" he asked.

"We have to try something. So right now, it's either start a treatment for cancer or…" Foreman lapsed into silence.

"Or devise a test for Chases' obscure poisoning conspiracy," Taub finished for him.

The silence stretched while Robert tried to pin down what exactly was still bothering him about Wilson's diagnosis. He was so tired that his brain felt like it was working through jello and he could barely keep his eyes open. Wilson was right: everything about this patient was just too squeaky clean, other than the fast rate at which he was dying. But that didn't necessarily mean that there had to be something strange going on, or that it was behind him getting sick. Sometimes it was just cancer … a weird cancer but cancer.

"Chase?" Foreman interrupted his thoughts, dragging him back to the room and the dilemma – cancer or not?

"Okay….lets start treatment."

[A few hours later]

"Chase?" Foreman interrupted him, pulling his arm gently but firmly and forcing him to step off the bed and stop CPR. "Chase, enough. He's gone." Foreman looked back over his shoulder at the clock on the other side of the room. "Time of death, 5.45 pm"

"I'll go speak with the family," Foreman offered as the nurse started folding the sheets around the man's body to conceal the blood. They'd done everything they could, tried what they agreed was the best chance that he had at success. And it failed. Whether they were ultimately right about the diagnosis or not didn't matter, either treatment probably wouldn't have saved his life when he was this far gone. At least he wasn't in pain anymore, Foreman thought, beginning to rehearse what he would say.

"There'll need to be an autopsy," Chase said stiffly, his hands clenching at thin air; they had blood on them from when he'd attempted resuscitation and he didn't want to touch anything and leave marks behind.

"I'll get the consent and let surgery know." Foreman said.

"I'll do it."

"Chase, you don't have to…someone else can…"

"I said I'll do it."

[the next day – Chase's apartment]

"It was obvious when I opened him up," Robert continued the narrative almost emotionlessly. If it weren't for his hand still firmly intertwined with hers, she'd think that he didn't even remember she was here.

"Damage that extensive is hard to miss," he said self-mockingly. "Turns out he really was being poisoned. I should have seen it the first time I operated on him, there must have been some evidence. I should have insisted we do another test, or check with House … I shouldn't have ignored what I knew was wrong. …, if I'd only trusted myself… He might still be alive…"

Rhia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and concentrating on the feeling of his hand while searching for something to say. She felt the strong tendons beneath his smooth skin, the rough edges of calluses on his fingertips. All the cliché's ran through her head: _you did your best; he probably would have died anyways; you couldn't have known; there are 5 other members of the team; it wasn't your fault_… but they all sounded hollow and he'd dismiss them as empty words even if they were the truth. … And she wasn't very good at telling him the truth today. But she didn't want to lie to him about this too.

"I'm sorry. Robert, I'm so sorry," she repeated finally, having discarded the cliché phrases in favour of one truth he couldn't ignore. She filled those two words with all the emotion that was missing from his own voice, and held his hand tightly as he leaned back into the pillows in exhaustion, the first tear escaping from beneath his closed eyes.

A/N: Forgive me if I botched the medicine stuff – I googled a few things but if it doesn't make perfect sense, well, this is fiction after all! Also, I realized I have no idea how to write Greg House himself…thus the possibly noticeable absence from this flashback. Sorry. Maybe he'll come in later somewhere… Reviews are love people! Thanks :)


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6: Truth comes softly

Chase watched the storm gathering through the office windows; it wasn't sleeting yet, but you could smell the damp coming on the breeze. It had been almost a week since that day in his apartment with Rhia and while he'd tried to forget it and move on, to make himself believe that it was just like any other day, that she was just like any other girl … he couldn't forget the way her skin smelled or how her fingers felt smoothing back his hair…

It certainly wasn't helping that they didn't have a case so that he could throw himself into work. Chase turned away from the window and back to the where the rest of the team sat around the table. Charts littered the surface, a tall stack of rejected cases and a few open ones still under consideration. House hadn't accepted any of the patients they'd proposed in the last week, preferring to just toss out insults about how they'd handled the last case … that was when he wasn't literally tossing the charts back at them.

"I've got a prostitute here," Taub said with hopeful interest.

"Congratulations?" Masters said sceptically. Chase noted that she'd stopped looking through the charts in favour of studying for her upcoming exams.

"The one from the ER yesterday?" Foreman asked, as Taub nodded. "You mean the one who's having a schizophrenic break?"

"No … oh." Taub's face fell as he finished reading through the note, closed the file and slid it towards the pile at the other end of the table. "I mean yes."

Chase glanced at the dwindling number of charts before he crossed the room, heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Is there anything that House will either be interested in, or let us take?" Chase asked without turning around or taking his hand off the door. Silence was his only answer. "Then I'm going to the clinic, maybe there will be a puzzle for House down there."

If nothing else he could at least finish off his clinic hours for this month, and maybe the work would distract him for awhile. Common colds, medication refills and a few toddlers who'd swallowed quarters was just he kind of thing he needed to get a little confidence and perspective back. He'd put in a few hours, maybe even do a little overtime, anything to get his mind back to the present.

Chase was so busy trying to focus his thoughts he didn't notice until he was off the elevator that he'd accidentally pushed two instead of one and was now on the second floor heading towards the dialysis ward. He'd been avoiding that wing of the hospital for most of the week but now his feet seemed to have a mind of their own. What could it hurt to just stop by quickly? She probably isn't even in today and maybe there will be a case, he half heartedly tried to convince himself even while he continued to walk further down the hallway.

He could see the glass walls of the dialysis wing up head, the bottom half frosted white to give the patients some privacy while the clear tops gave him a view of the nurses moving from chair to chair. Just one quick look, he thought, taking a deep breath and trying to walk over to the nurses desk like he was just looking for a chart.

He made it all the way and picked up the closest chart before he let his eyes glance up and over to where the patients sat. He realized he was holding his breath only when he let it out upon seeing two men and one blonde sitting in the chairs against the fall wall. Even while that's what he'd been expecting, he still felt a little disappointed. Well, even if Rhia wasn't here, there still could be a case and Chase turned his thoughts back towards the chart in his hands, finishing up with the pretence of looking through it.

"Robert?" the voice made him spin, the case yet again forgotten as his heart leapt … only to sink again.

"Oh, hi Jaime." Chase forced a smile while she walked over to him, her aqua scrubs dipping to a low v-neck.

"What brings you down to dialysis? Got a case or were you just looking for a reason to come visit?" she asked coyly.

"What?" Chase asked blankly before he remembered that he and Jaime had hooked up a few weeks ago. It had just been for one night and she'd seemed alright with that, but he hadn't exactly taken the time to be sure. "Oh, no. I'm just looking for a case. With House it always has to be something interesting and strange. Looks like all you've got here is the ordinary," he shrugged, putting down the chart and turning to go.

"I don't know if I'd call it ordinary," Jaime drawled slowly, leaning against the counter while she put down the vials in her hands and stepped closer to him. "I'm just about to clock off, why don't we go and find you something … extraordinary."

Chase closed his eyes briefly, but images of the last time appeared in the darkness behind his eyelids so he opened them again. She was staring at him expectantly, a slight smile on her face and a glint in her eyes that he remembered from dark nights lit with candlelight and silk ties…

"Sure," he said easily, hoping to distract himself for a brief span of time. "What did you have in mind?"

The taste of her cherry lipgloss combined with the aftermath of too many vodka martini's filled his mouth as Chase let his tongue lick slowly along her bottom lip. The trip from the hospital to the bar and then the cab ride back to her apartment was filled with vague speeches and hurried fumblings all clouded with the haze of a good number of pints. He felt the alcohol dimming reality and letting him escape into pure feeling and memory.

His fingers brushed back through her hair as he kicked closed the door behind him and casually manoeuvred deeper into the room. He couldn't help feeling a certain jolt when her short hair fell through his fingers, the memory of long waves seeming to echo in his mind.

He felt the buzz of his pager from where he'd clipped it on his belt when he discarded his lab coat back at the hospital and dropped it along with his pants onto the floor in a pile. Foreman or Taub weren't who he wanted to think about right now – they could wait.

As he hopped pulling one leg then the other free he watched her retreat away from him and into the bedroom, her clothing falling on the floor even as he reached out to keep her close: he wanted her under his hands, close enough to feel but not to see so that his mind could follow the fantasy where it would.

He followed her, falling onto the bed and pulled her into his arms letting his eyes close as his hands and mouth explored her warm skin instead. He heard her giggle as if from a long way off when his tongue dipped into the hollow of her hip and traced downwards.

In his mind's eye he pictured pale skin dotted with dark freckles from some long ago summer and soft hands that pulled his head back up to claim his lips in a kiss. He was so lost in the moment that he let himself open his eyes as he pulled back, his hand tracing her face lovingly – only to pull further back and roll away in surprise when the image in his mind was confronted with the contrasting reality of the short blonde in the bed beneath him.

Chase rolled to the far side of the bed, sitting up and pushing his fingers back through his hair as his mind warred with his body's demands.

"Chase? What's the matter?" a female voice asked from behind him, but he realized now that it wasn't the voice he was wanting to hear. He could still feel the heat pulsing through him, but now it was combined with an equal sickness and loathing … at himself for thinking that he could so easily trick himself and hide from the truth.

"Chase?"

"It's nothing," he lied, but he couldn't turn around and say it to her face. "Sorry, I just remembered I've got to go."

He heard her slide closer but stood up quickly before she could reach and pull him back. "Come on Chase – it can happen to anyone," she said, his nudity hiding nothing from her but the cause for his present condition. "Come back to bed, it's nothing we can't fix with a little effort."

"Look, I really am sorry," Chase said, pulling on his shirt and scanning the floor for any remaining items of his clothing. "I just have to go."

"Fine," she said coldly, leaning back into the pillows and watching while he gathered his things. "I never figured you for being the insecure type, but I won't make that mistake again." Her tone clearly meaning the mistake wasn't only about misjudging his character.

Chase paused pulling on his pants the urge to laugh out loud so strong he couldn't suppress it even knowing that it could only make the situation worse: "Honey you have no idea how insecure I can be," he said walking out.

The chill of the late autumn air was a shock as Robert stepped outside and started briskly walking down the unfamiliar sidewalk, but he welcomed the clarity. He mind kept replaying the last few hours mixing the reality with the dream that he had tried so hard to recapture without even consciously knowing it.

The bar.

The drinks.

The blurred city streets on the cab ride home.

The girl.

Only it had been the wrong girl. His mind kept replacing Jaime with someone who had long wavy hair he could lose his fingers in, and pale skin with freckles so soft and smooth and dark eyes that closed the barest second before her lips touched his.

Rhia.

It was too clear for it to have all been a figment of his imagination, and that could only mean one thing: the night last week hadn't been nothing like she'd said. He could remember the feel of her skin under his hands and the taste of her on his lips.

It was real. Real in a way that shook him to the core and made him afraid in a way that he'd never been before. Because he couldn't seem to get her out of his head and all he could think about was seeing her again.

Chase stopped on the corner, the streetlight illuminating a circle of brightness around him as reality struck home and chilled him in a way that the coldness of the night never could.

Somehow, softly and without him even being aware of it, he had fallen in love with her.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7: The Call

A/N: if you're looking for musical interludes while reading try: "the call" by Regina Spektor ;p

The first snowflakes of winter started to fall slowly to the ground, softly settling on the bowed shoulders of a lone man where he sat in on the bench illuminated by the glow of the streetlight. His hand still held a cell phone clutched tightly in his fingers while his eyes stared blindly at the dark plastic screen.

Chase tried replaying the last few moments, trying desperately to figure out what he could have said or not said that would have made a difference even while the panic in his chest grew.

….

He stopped dead on the street with the realization: he was in love. Not the chick flick romantic comedy kind, but one of the life changing sudden moments when you realize that from now it will always be either before or after this but never the same. He'd spent his whole life running from this in one way or another, and he was sober enough now to realize the irony in having love sneak up on him from behind when he wasn't looking.

He'd loved other people before – hell you could almost say he'd made his life a study in the act of love, but he'd desperately, almost frantically done everything he could to keep himself from feeling it. Because he knew where that road would leave him: he'd seen it first hand destroy his father and his family bit by little bit over the years.

Sure his father had been an absentee dad, too wrapped up in his career to have much time for Robert or his siblings and his mom had drank herself to death before he was out of medical school, but he'd seen the way they used to look at each other. How the emotion used to overflow their gazes just with a single glance so that they couldn't help but be destroyed by it. And he'd sworn that it would never happen to him.

He'd done practically everything he could to avoid that fate, he realized looking back over the last few years of his life. Brief romantic encounters for a few moments of sex and chasing women who were in love with someone else had all but ensured that he'd never felt such an intense emotion rock the solid foundation of his life before.

And then there was Rhia.

He'd loved Cameron, at the time he thought that he'd loved her more than he could ever love someone, but he saw now that he'd only really chased after her because her infatuation with House had kept her at a safe distance from him. He'd never really felt like he could share everything with her, there was always some part of himself that he'd kept separate just like she'd kept some part of her from him too. But it hadn't been that way with Rhia. Somehow, quietly and softly over the weeks that they'd spent together, all the chaste conversations and moments of utter honesty he'd found that connection that had been missing, even if he didn't realize it.

Chase sat down on the bench in front of him, barely feeling the cold of the night air as the feeling of panic inside him turned into something warm and bright. He was in love. The thought filled him with euphoria and hope where before there had been only fear. Suddenly he couldn't keep it to himself any longer – he fumbled in his coat pocket for his cell phone, scrolling through the call history until he found the number he was looking for.

He paused a moment, taking a deep breath before he pushed the dial button and held it while the phone rang once, and again.

"Hello?"

The voice sounded far away, but it didn't matter: it was the only sound in the world that he wanted to hear, even as faint and distant as it may be.

"Rhia? It's Robert… Uh, how are you?" he cursed himself for the lame question and sounding for all the world like a well-mannered-school-boy the moment it popped out of his mouth. Why couldn't he ever just say what he meant straight off?

"I'm alright," her voice sounded cautious and their connection crackled briefly. "Is everything alright? How have you been?"

"Me? I've been, well, horrible and fantastic! And confused and finally just so amazing clear." He was nearly ecstatic just talking to her, he could barely keep it all contained and he felt something squeeze around his chest when she laughed.

"Well I guess that's… good then?" her voice teased gently and he could almost hear the smile in her tone.

A moment of silence passed as he just sat and enjoyed the feeling of hearing her waiting on the other end of the line, knowing that he could say anything to her and it would be alright.

"Rhia …."

"Yes?"

Chase took a deep breath, readying himself because he knew this was the hard part. It was one thing admitting it to himself but quite another putting it out for the whole world to know. And right now she was his world.

"I remember the other night."

The silence stretched and Chase realized he was fiddling with the buttons on his coat while he waited. "Rhia?"

"I'm here."

"Well?" he asked almost impatiently. If he'd imagined how this conversation would go before calling, had taken the time to script it in his mind this wouldn't be how he had pictured it.

"Well what Robert? What do you expect me to say?" She sounded quiet now, resigned almost and he felt the first touches of worry touch him like the chill seeping under his coat.

"I don't know," he confessed, "I just wanted you to know. I just wanted …" he trailed off suddenly not ready to tell her all of it. "Why did you lie?"

He heard her sigh on the other end of the line, the distance between them feeling further than ever. "I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. You work at the hospital that I go to, there are so many other factors in this to consider … I didn't want to get you into trouble."

"Is that why you're lying to me now?" he asked, her excuse ringing hollow in his ears.

"No! I mean .. yes, but no…" she trailed off for a moment and Robert held his breath waiting for her to speak again. "It's just, I know what type of guy you are Rob. I've heard it gossiped about from the nursing staff and I've even seen you in action myself. A different girl every week or for every event … I just … I thought if I didn't tell you, if I could just pretend that it hadn't happened that neither of us would get hurt. We could continue going about our lives…"

Chase shook his head in confusion as her words sank in. "But I don't want to pretend it never happened," he said, "I'm in love with you."

He heard her catch her breath then let it out in a single word: "Robert…"

"Look," he said standing up suddenly and realizing that he never should have done this over the phone to begin with. "I'm coming over, we can talk face to face … I just, I need to see you."

"Robert you can't."

"I know it's late," he began, the usual excuses running through his head before she'd even said them.

"I'm not here."

He stopped sill. "What do you mean you're not here?"

"I couldn't forget you as easily as I thought I could either, and I just needed some time and space," her words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other and him so fast he could barely catch them over the crackle on the connection. "I haven't been doing as well as they'd hoped and I thought if I just took some time away from it all … away from you that it might be better."

"Some time away," he heard himself repeat the words woodenly as if removed from the conversation.

"Robert, I'm sorry. I thought it would be easier for us to go one this way."

"Easier," he repeated again.

"I never should have said anything," he could hear the tears in voice now. "I'm sorry … I should go."

"No! Wait!" he called, desperation making him clutch at the plastic phone like the lifeline that it was. "Please just tell me where you are."

"Robert…"

"I'll feel better knowing where you are, that you're alright."

He waited while she wrestled with the decision, the heavy silence filled with the arguments she'd never voice.

"I'm in Sydney."

"Sydney?" Half the world lay between them.

"I told you I needed space," she said and even while his heart lifted at the forced humour in her voice he couldn't ignore the distance either.

"Well you got it," he paused, trying not to show how much the next question mattered to him: "when are you coming back?"

Silence met his question and it was a few heartbeats before she answered. "I don't know."

"But you are coming back?" he could hear the desperation in his voice but didn't care: his whole being rested on the answer.

"I don't know. I have to go Robert. I'm sorry."

…..

He stared at the phone in his hands, ears not wanting to believe the click that had ended their conversation even while the dial tone rang into the night. He slowly loosened his hand enough to press the hang up button and it was cut off abruptly, leaving him in the snowy silence.

Just a few minutes ago he had felt like nothing in the world could bring him down, as if he could fly and now he could barely lift his head up and away from where the phone lay limp in his hand. He was torn into shreds – part of him wanted to catch a cab straight for the airport and get on the next plane to Australia, work and life and House be damned, and another part of him couldn't believe that she'd left him like this after he'd confessed his love. But a bigger part of him knew that if she needed space, needed time to figure things out that he had to give it to her. Even if she didn't say the words, he knew that she'd only be so shaken to run if she truly felt something for him too – after all it was exactly what he would have done. Turns out they weren't all that different after all.

He just would have to have faith that she'd come back to him. Faith that she'd brought back into his life, along with trust and love.

This wasn't goodbye after all.

~~~ Fin ~~~

A/N: so what do you think? Is it over here? Or should Chase go after her to Australia? It's up to you my darlings! Review and comments and let me know if you want a sequel! Xo ~Xan


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